Count to Ten
by deebainwonderland
Summary: Ed's life hangs in the balance as the people who care about him beg him to stay. Ed wonders if he can.


**Count to Ten**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Fullmetal Alchemist **

**Warnings: Language and slight violence **

Edward Elric watched as his little brother cried with a strangely detached feeling. It was rather odd seeing a suit of metal cry. There were no actual tears of course, but Alphonse Elric's metal shoulders shook all the same. He had no hair to grab on and twist but his large hands ran over his helmet head nevertheless.

His voice, so odd in its childlike quality, gasped and hitched just like anyone else's would have but there was no mouth to quiver.

Yes, it was a strange sight indeed to see the body of an armored man hunched by a hospital bed, crying for everything he was worth.

Ed felt like he should be doing something, something to comfort his little brother but his limbs felt heavy and his tongue leaden.

Through Al's tears Ed could hear some words. "It can't be true", and "Not yet."

Then, all of a sudden, Al flew to his feet and seized the side railings of the bed.

"I don't care about what those doctors said Brother," he cried, anguish and a hint of fury in his voice, "You are not going to die here. Not because of a damned bullet!"

The passion seeped from Al as quickly as it had come. His metal squeaked as he sat down again and put his head back into his hands.

"Not from a bullet," he whispered, so quietly that Ed had to strain to hear, "Not after everything we have been through. A bullet can't take you away from me."

With great effort, Ed pulled his eyes away from the figure of his slumped brother and moved them to the bed and the person lying on it.

It was him. Ed managed to take a few steps forward until he was alongside the bed. It was him. Edward Elric was lying right in front of him, looking extremely pale and with a hard grimace on his face.

"That's right," thought Ed as if from a far off part of his mind, "I was shot. That old bastard actually shot me."

What a ridiculous thing. What an embarrassing thing! He, the great Fullmetal Alchemist, had been felled by a stupid bullet. He supposed one of the damn things must have finally caught up with him. And from the way Al was acting, it wasn't looking good.

"Wait," thought Ed, comprehension dawning, "If I was shot, if I'm lying in that bed, then what am I doing here? Am I dead already?"

He didn't have any more time to dwell on the confusing turn of events. The door had suddenly flown open with a force that shook its very hinges.

Colonel Roy Mustang stepped into the room.

"You know, he really can be impressive when he isn't acting like a git," mused Edward, still feeling strange and unfocused.

Mustang was in his formal dress clothes, but they, along with his raven hair, were soaked. It must be raining. Ed vaguely recalled the Colonel telling him that he was attending a formal dinner that night so he had better not do anything stupid and ruin the night.

"I'm guess this qualifies," thought Edward dryly, "He's going to kill me if the bullet doesn't do the trick."

Mustang strode purposefully to the side of the hospital bed and for a few seconds he simply stared down at Ed's still form. His face was expressionless but Ed noticed, not without surprise, that his mouth twitched into something close to a grimace.

Riza Hawkeye had followed her commander into the room and she had to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from gasping.

"Wow," thought Edward, looking between the two, "I must look really bad."

Mustang spun on his heels to face Al.

"What. Happened?" he demanded through gritted teeth.

Al didn't seem able to take his eyes off his brother. "We were just walking home," he said, his voice sounding as dead as Ed felt, "I didn't see anything. One moment Brother was walking beside me, laughing and the next he was on the ground and-". At this point Al had stop for a moment and when he continued, the tears were back in his voice, "And there was blood everywhere. I didn't see who shoot him. People were shouting all around us."

Al trailed off, turning back to the bed.

"Colonel," said Riza, jerking her head to the door. As Mustang swept out of the room, Riza said to Al, "We'll be right back Alphonse". Ed's brother didn't bother answering.

For some reason, Ed felt like he should follow them out into the hallway. It was hard to move.

When the door shut, leaving the two (three) of them alone, Riza turned toward her commander in a fury, "That sounds like he was taken out, sir!"

"It seems like that," answered Mustang, his fingers clicking together dangerously.

"By a sniper, sir!" cried Riza. She winced at Mustang's reproachful look and lowered her voice, "That's warfare tactics."

Mustang didn't answer her because just then a doctor walked busily up to them. Mustang stepped deftly into his path and demanded, "What can you tell me about the patient in this room?"

The doctor glanced at the number on the door and then looked at the two military officers with distrust. "Are you friends or family?" he asked.

Riza looked sideways at her commander before answering, "We are as close as he's got."

The doctor studied the odd pair before him. They had noticed the child's silver watch when he had come in, of course, but he had assumed it must be some kind of mistake. Turns out it wasn't. He really was a child solider shot in the middle of the street.

"The bullet hit him almost straight on in the chest," the doctor said, "It traveled around in his rib cage and collapsed a lung."

Riza hissed in a sharp breath and the doctor felt a pang of sympathy.

"We have done what we can but I am afraid that there is simply nothing else to be done," he continued, "We have placed Mr. Elric in a medically induced coma but in my professional opinion…"

The doctor paused a moment. This was always the worst part. "We don't believe that he will wake up" he concluded.

Mustang couldn't seem to process the doctor's words. Wouldn't wake up? Elric? Ed, the bright, vivacious child who had been to hell and back more than any other man could say? He wasn't going to wake up? Completely, utterly ridiculous.

Riza Hawkeye wasn't one to show great emotion at work but she had to blink hard to keep the tears that threatened to crawl up out of her eyes.

The doctor gave them an awkward nod and hurried off. The two military officers stood in silence for a moment before Mustang turned and threw the door to Ed's room open again.

Al, who was still sitting by his unmoving brother, jumped. He looked up at the two and didn't need to ask.

"Lieutenant," Mustang said in a voice of ice, "Why don't you take Alphonse out to stretch his legs for a moment? Mr. Elric and I are going to have a little chat."

Riza Hawkeye only had to through a glance at her commander and friend to know that he meant business.

"Come on, Al" she said gently, "Let's let the men talk for a minute."

Al, who was too numb to refuse, slowly got up to his feet. As he reached the door however, Al turned around and looked at Mustang.

"I can't lose him," Al said softly but with steel, "I've lost everything else. He's all I have left."

With that Al stalked from the room, followed closely by a concerned Riza.

The slam of the door felt unearthly loud in the otherwise silent hospital room. For several moments the silence was palpable, one man refusing to speak and the other unable.

Ed sifted from one foot to the other. He knew from far too much experience that Mustang's silence was one his most powerful weapons. It also usually meant that he was royally pissed.

Finally, Mustang spoke. "Did you hear that Elric?" he demanded, "That was your little brother begging you not to leave him. Are you really just going to ignore that?"

"I don't want to!" thought Ed furiously but was unable to actually form the words. Did Mustang really believe that Ed wanted to be holed up in a hospital bed, clinging to life as Al cried over his body?

Mustang began to pace the room again. "I'm going to find whoever did this to you," he said through gritted teeth, "And I am going to make them _burn_."

Now this was rather surprising. The rage in Mustang's eyes could have boiled water and he was shaking. Ed was taken aback. He had almost expected Mustang to start gloating about how now he would have one less troublesome subordinate to worry about.

Instead of the normally impassive man that Ed was used to, this one looked on the verge of breaking. Ed wasn't entirely sure of what to do.

"You've done this once before," Mustang told Ed's still form, "You've faced death before and come back. You need to do that again. You need to fight it!"

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" wondered Ed. He could feel his body, or whatever it was, fading more every moment. "I don't want to leave."

Mustang crossed back over the bed and looked down at his subordinate. It had been him that had taken Ed from his country life and turned him into a dog of the military. He has been the one who had pushed and fostered the young man's endless potential.

The blacked haired man reached down hesitantly and swiped the golden hair out of Ed's face. Ed could almost, almost feel the touch.

The hand, usually gloved, lingered on Ed's pale face. "Dammit Ed," muttered Mustang, staring intently down, as if he could will the young man into opening his eyes and gently stroking his hair and forehead, "You can't go like this!"

The Colonel suddenly jerked away from Ed as if he had burned him and began pacing the room yet again. He started to talk aloud, seemingly trying to fill the silence in the room. Rooms with Edward Elric in them should never be so silent.

"We have no idea who shoot you," Mustang said, "But it was definitely some short of a professional hit. Knowing you it could be any number of people. Hell, even I've thought about it a few times…. Of course I wouldn't have been this messy. I also would have succeeded."

Ed wondered if he should be insulted.

"I have all my men out there looking," Mustang continued, still pacing, "That son of a bitch won't make it out of our city alive."

Mustang trailed off for a moment, staring out the window and then stalked back over to the bed. This time his touch wasn't gentle.

Roy Mustang gripped the shoulders of his young subordinate and gave them a hard shake.

"I'm doing my part!" he cried, the anger and fear he had been keeping bottled up inside since he had heard the news hours before spilling out, "I'm going to catch this bastard and then I am going to burn him alive with my very own hands! Now you have to do your part to! Al is still in that metal suit, are you just going to leave him in there? The Edward Elric I know would never give up so easily."

Ed wanted to give the Colonel a good slap over his head. Did he think that he wanted to be dying in some hospital? It wasn't exactly a choice.

"Remember Ed," hissed Mustang, "Remember why you are here. Remember what you are fighting for!"

That caused Ed to pause. Just what was he fighting for anyway? It had been going on for so long that he had a hard time remembering.

"The doctors say that you are going to die," Mustang said bluntly, "I'm going to count to ten. If you don't wake up by then I'm going to walk out that door and I'm not going to come back. I won't stay at your bedside waiting for you to die."

Mustang looked down at Ed and grunted "Ten".

Ed thought back, so many years ago, of his mother. He thought of her gentle smile and warm laughter. He thought of her death.

"Nine," said Mustang.

Ed thought of Alphonse, still in his human body. How was it that Al could still love him so, after it had been his idea to try human transmutation? Ed knew it was his fault that Al didn't have a human body anymore no matter how many people told him otherwise.

"Eight," said Mustang.

Then there was Winry. She had always stayed by his side. Ed loved her. Not that he was going to say that aloud anytime soon.

"Seven," said Mustang.

Ed remembered the day he had lost his limbs. Some nights, in his nightmares, he could still feel the skin peeling away from his body.

"Six," said Mustang, beginning to pace the room again.

Ed thought about when he had first met the Colonel. He hadn't been thinking much those days but he remembered thinking that the man in the military uniform was impressive. Of course, he really would die before he told the bastard that.

"Five," ground out Mustang.

Passing the military entrance exam really had been a breeze but now thinking back, Ed wondered if he had really known what it meant to be a dog of the military.

"Four," said Mustang, as he slammed a fist into the wall and watched as blood dripped down on the white, sterile floor.

Ed thought of Rose. She had been so close to making the same mistake that he and Al had. Funny how far people will go for their loved ones.

"Three," grunted Mustang and he wrung his hand in the air.

Ed thought of Scar. In another lifetime that could have been him.

"Two," Mustang said, turning and beginning to walk to the door.

Despite his best efforts, Ed's thoughts turned to his father. His good for nothing father. Ed didn't think he would ever be able to forgive him.

"One," ground out Mustang, his bloody hand closing on the door handle.

Ed thought of the door. The door that no man still living was ever meant to see. Of the promise he made. Of how a bullet was about to make a liar out of him.

"Ed," said Mustang, gripping the door handle so hard it shook. A tear mingled with the blood that was dripping from his hand onto the floor, "Please".

Edward Elric opened his eyes.

**Hey readers, hope everyone enjoyed this quick story. I know the ending is left a bit ambiguous. If there is a lot of reader interest then I might write a sequel for it. Please review!**


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